


Soulmates AUs

by muffinlaurens_cinnamonlance



Category: Free!, Hamilton - Miranda, Whatever i feel like - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Alot of that, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Anxiety, Bullying, Crying, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Happy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, One-Shots, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Sad, Self-Harm, Smut, long chapters, only a bit, wowie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10534110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffinlaurens_cinnamonlance/pseuds/muffinlaurens_cinnamonlance
Summary: Alex was ecstatic when he got his first mark, and even more so when words followed. John was amazing, no doubt. Did somebody amazing always get this many bruises?





	1. Marks - Lams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex was ecstatic when he got his first mark, and even more so when words followed. John was amazing, no doubt. Did somebody amazing always get this many bruises?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer than I'd like but read it anyways

It was common knowledge that as soon as a person's Soulmate could get a hold of any writing utensil, whether it be a sharpie or crayon and knew how to use it, they would find some kind of mark or message on their skin. At a young age, children are brought up knowing that basic fact. Parents taught their children not to be afraid if they felt the phantom sensation of a scratch or cut on their arms or legs that wasn't theirs. It was just their Soulmate getting a "boo-boo." If they found notes on their hands that they don't remember writing they shouldn't be scared. Only excited.

Usually the first messages young children wrote on their skin for their Soulmates were tiny hearts or deformed smiley faces. It was something parents celebrated as much as they did a baby's first words or steps. It usually happened within the first 3 years of birth and carried on until their eventual meeting.

So naturally, when their adopted son Alexander didn't get his first mark until he was 11, the Washingtons were alarmed.

They knew the child had faced some adversities. His mother had died before his very eyes, his home was ravaged by a ruthless hurricane destroying the people of his childhood and the memories along with it. When they had decided to adopt him they didn't think of any of the risks. They only saw a small child without a home. It seemed like the perfect and most fitting solution for Martha's bareness, so they rushed headfirst into it. Caring to his every whim, pampering him beyond belief, giving him everything he could ever need or want.

As the years went by they couldn't deny that something was off within Alex, but there was something off in many people, George had reasoned, and it was seldom a cause for worry. What _was_ was the matter of his missing Soulmate. Alex was almost 5 at that point, and there was still no sign of a message, drawing, or even scar anywhere. The Washingtons had brushed it off, but when the curious boy had come home from his first day of Kindergarten pouting miserably they knew they had to address it. 

They reassured him that it was totally normal. Some Soulmates were too shy. Some wrote things and erased them. Some were years younger. The young child upturned his nose at the suggestion that his lover could possibly be a fetus in the womb but accepted it either way. 

Everyday he wrote the same thing over and over again, on the thumb of his left hand. **':)'**

And everyday he got no response. He became anxious. What if he was a Blank? Those who didn't have Soulmates, those whose Soulmates were dead or gone. Those who the universe forgot. The suggestion of such a thing happening to him weighed heavy on his chest, making it hard to breath sometimes. From time to time it got to much for the child and he would struggle for his breaths, scared and nervous that he'd end up alone. Had the system failed him?

He was made fun of by kids at school because he was _weird._ What person didn't get written to by their Soulmates? 

Then one day as Alex was doing his math homework at the table and Martha was cooking dinner in the kitchen, he felt a ghost of something over his upper arm. At first he credited it to an irritation from his clothes, and brushed it off as an annoying day to day occurrence caused by his mother's used of her pungent detergent. When he felt it again, except in soft and fragmented strokes, his brown eyes widened and he shot up, gaining the attention from both of his parents.

"Alex, son, what is wrong with you?"

He didn't give a response, only ran to the bathroom with his perturbed and confused parents close behind. He ripped off his shirt and looked to the upper section of his limb. A purple bruise was starting to bloom there, looking horrid against his pale skin. Martha's thin eyebrows knitted together as she brushed a finger over it. Alex' theory was further proven as he felt no direct pain; more like a detached sensation, as if he had a phantom limb. "Honey, did you fall at sc-" Her question fell off as tiny scribbles began appearing under it, forming words. George, Alex and her watched as the message they had been waiting for appeared on his skin.

**'Sorry if I bothered you'**

Alex rushed back downstairs, leaving his parents in the bathroom as they cried tears of relief.

He grabbed his pen with clumsy fingers, writing on his hand quickly. **'Hi'**

He waited for almost 5 minutes before he got the next hesitant response, but his excitement never ceased. ' **Hi'**

**'My name is Alexander, but you can call me Alex'**

**'I'm John'**

**'That's a nice name'**

**'Thank you, Alex'**

**'How old are you? I'm 11'**

**'10'**

**'THANK GOD MOM SAID YOU COULD BE LIKE 3 OR SOMETHING'**

**'Ew!'**

**'I know >:('**

**'tHANKFULLY i AM NOT'**

**'Hahaha, you're still in Elementary!'**

**'Am not! For your info, I skipped a grade!'**

**'OH THATS COOL'**

**'Um, Thanks...'**

**'Why didn't you ever write before??? I was worried kinda sorta'**

**'I'm sorry, I was scared'**

**'Scared of what?'**

**'Well, you not liking me'**

**'That's stupid'**

**'How?'**

**'Well, we're Soulmates. Meant for each other'**

**'Still** '

Alex had to turn his hand over to his because the front part of his arm was completely covered by the neat and small writing. His handwriting, on the other hand, (HAHA PUN) was large and messy, but he didn't mind. Tomorrow he would wear short sleeves and show off to everyone in his grade that he finally had somebody to call his own, his true love. Half of his life was set out here, right in front of him, and he'd don the messages with pride.  


**'Still what?'**

**'Woah, that tickles.'**

Alex made a mindless scribble on the most sensitive part of his wrist he could find, mouth set in a mischievous grin. Years of anxiety had melted away. **'Oh yeah?'**

' **Stooooop!'**

**'Fine, fine. I can't write all day you know. Homework'**

**'Aww, okay. I must admit I do too. I hate it : < Will you write tomorrow?'**

**'Of course, dummy. We're Soulmates!'**

**'I know, but promise?'**

**'Yes, John. Swear to God.'**

**'Okay. Goodnight, Alex'**

**'Night'**

For the first time in ages, Alex slept contently and without any troubles. The next morning when he woke up, before going to the bathroom to take his shower he grabbed an orange Sharpie and drew a small sun on his palm. 

In the middle of class he felt the same phantom sensation on his palm and opened it. Next to his sun doodle was a small green turtle, and he couldn't help but write ' **cute'** underneath it as a smile curled his lips. The handwriting was rushed and shaky, but he could still determine the reply to be a quick ' **you're embarrassing.'**

As the month passed and the weather got warmer, Alex found himself finding out more about John as he wrote small notes during class or on the bus ride home. He had an obsession with turtles, but his father never bought him one and loved stuffed animals. His favorite color was obviously green, and he likes doodling, except he was previously scared of doing it on himself because he didn't want Alex to laugh at him, which seemed absurd to the boy because he absolutely adored John's doodles. Over Spring Break they didn't talk about anything important unless shark puns were counted as a serious matter. He found out that John lived in South Carolina, definitely farther than he'd like, but he promised that one Summer he'd visit. 

As the testing season approached, teachers started getting stern about guidelines. To prevent cheating, no writing was allowed on your visible body, meaning that arms and legs were out of the question. 

Alex was sad at first because he couldn't think of any other way to write to John, but after stepping out the shower he decided to grab his erasable expo and sit on the toilet. He was confused when he saw the light purple hue of a bruise on the tender skin of his thigh and brushed over it. When he got the same detached feeling from the first bruise he realized it was John's.

**'Hey, John, why is there a bruise on you our thigh you weirdo?'**

**'Are you writing on my thigh because of tests next week?'**

**'Yeah. Sorta nervous.'**

**'I'm sure you'll do great, Lex'**

Alex grinned at the nickname. **'You'll do even better. You're fucking Einstein'**

**'Watch your mouth! Since when did you start cursing? >:('**

**'Since now'**

**'No!'**

**'You're not my dad!'**

**'No, but I'm your soulmate and you're 11 and I said no! Wait until 13!'**

**'Hmph. Fine, mooom.'**

**'Now sleep! You have to be rejuvenated for the tests. No talking to me you big goof'**

**'Fine, fine. Goodnight, Turtle.'**

**'Night, Lex'**

With a bit of hesitation, Alex grabbed his permanent red Sharpie and drew a heart atop the bruise over his thigh. As he got dressed he waited and waited, watching his thigh, and it felt like he was observing grass growing or paint drying. As he catapulted into his bed and his eyes drooped closed, he felt disappointment settle in his chest like a heavy stone. When he felt the ghost like sensation that was beginning to become familiar to him he almost bolted up.

He was delighted to see another heart, tinier and smaller in size but definitely there, and he fell back into bed to squeal in his pillow.

As tests began, he found his brain muddled and crowded with information. He barely had any time to write to John between his delayed studying for the next day's exams, but he made sure that every day he drew a small heart on his left wrist, and every day he was ecstatic to see that the same tiny heart appeared on his right one. The little drawing gave him courage, so he kept on reading and bubbling in the small Scantron squares.

By the time Friday came with its relief and promise of no more tests, he was almost too tired to move. His brain felt like a soggy mink coat, weighed down with pointless information that he was positive he didn't need to survive when an adult. 

When he felt the weight on his wrist he moved it up towards his face, smiling lazily as he saw the **'good job this week'** scribbled there. He could barely scribble out the messy, **'tired'** , but as soon a second he did he got a **'have sweet dreams and talk to me later.'**

Alex woke up to ghostly fingers around his neck, and when he looked to the clock next to him it read 1:00am. He walked on unsteady feet to the cold bathroom, wincing at the coolness of the marble tiles against his feet and rubbing the crusty sleep out of his eyes. When his brown eyes met the mirror he couldn't help the horrified expression that crossed his face.

A ring of irritated red skin hung around his throat, already turning the purple that seemed wonted to John. His fingers brushed over his skin cautiously, but they only caused a tingling sensation. He felt another ghostly brush near his hipbones and wasn't as surprised as he had first been when he saw the irritated skin before. What was wrong with John? Had he fallen again?

That was always his excuse, so perhaps he had rolled out of bed. It didn't explain why his neck was bruised, or why the bruises were so spaced out in timing, but it was the only reasonable solution Alex could think of. _Would_ think of.

He watched as tiny crescent shapes formed over his side. Nail marks, which made even less sense, but he accepted it and turned off the bathroom light to sneak back into bed. Once an hour had passed, and the bruises had stopped coming, Alex finally decided to write out a message concerning the in all 8 bruises and nail marks that had appeared on John's skin. (Alex was worried that John would ache for at least a month. The medley of green, reds browns and purples all looked extremely painful, and he was a bit disappointed that he couldn't somehow share the pain with John or take it for him.)

**'John, are you awake?'**

**'yeah, im sorry, did i wake you?'**

**'Sort of. Are you okay?'**

**'Yeah.'**

**'Are you sure? Where did all those bruises and stuff come from???'**

**'Nothing important, Lex. I'm fine.'**

**'Well, you wanna stay awake and talk??'**

**'Yeah, sure.'**

**'How you feeling?'**

**'Fine. How did your tests go?'**

**'Ugh, boring. Yours?'**

**'Okay, I hope'**

**'Like I said, you're a genius. You probably did great and got a perfect score'**

**'Thanks, Lex. How many weeks do you have until Summer Break?"**

**'3. You?'**

**'I have a month.'**

**'I wish I could visit you, but Mom said it could mess thing up :\'**

**'Eh?!'**

**'Idk something weird about some rule, but I'll have to wait for like 2 years.'**

**'That's not too long. I thought you meant like 10 years or something. Would've been bad'**

**'Definitely'**

**'Well, I'm guessing you're tired?'**

**'Are you?'**

**'A bit, but I'll stay up if you want'**

**'Nope, I was asking because I'm exhausted.'**

**'Oh! Well goodnight, Lex'**

**'Goodnight, Turtle'**

Alex smiled when he saw the drawing of a small heart appear before he even reached for his own Sharpie.

When the end of school came, the promise of a carefree Summer with his parents and at the pool sounded incredibly fun. He'd never tell John, but his parents were in the upper class. They never liked mansions or sports cars or anything of the sort, so instead settled for a reasonably large house, but they couldn't hide the bodyguards they had outside. Alex thought that was pretty cool, but the best part and probably most important to the 11-year-old was the pool. 

In July when it was his birthday he'd always have small parties there, though they were quite lonely since he only had one best friend (Lafayette, but he moved away 2 years ago.) It was still no less fun, and he still loved doing dives and backflips while covered in copious amounts of the sunscreen that had been lathered onto him by a cautious Martha. 

As soon as he got home he scribbled a rushed **'SUMMERRR!!!'** before ripping off his clothes and jumping into the pool. His black hair spread out in the water like a nebula around his head as he floated on his back. Martha watched him like a hawk even if he did swim like a dolphin; she could never be too sure.

He washed all the chlorine off of his hair, wrote the small heart on his wrist (it had become a ritual) and waited for the response after going to sleep. It repeated like that for a month, and they sometimes talked about what Summer brought them. John's father had a business trip, so he would be left with his mother and annoying sisters. Alex almost felt bad for him, but John said that it wasn't horrible because his friend Hercules visited sometimes.

**'MY BIRTHDAY IS JULY 12!'**

**'What, no fair, mine is October 28. You'll be two years older than me for 3 months!'**

**'H A!'**

**'Whateverr.'**

**'Awww, do you hate me now? Little baby John overreacting'**

**'FIGHT ME'**

**'OKAY OKAY SORRY'**

**'just playing i still love you'**

**'Love me'**

**'Well duh???'**

**'I love you too'**

**'Took you long enough! Now I'm tired, bye Lex'**

**'Bye Turtle'**

Summer almost flew past, and school came before Alex knew it along with a new grade and new teachers. The only common theme was the ass beating work and the boring voices, but at least John was there making it better. On October 28th during a particularly boring lesson about Soulmate evolution, John had written the largest Alex had seen **'IM 11 NOW!'** and Alex wrote as many smiley faces as he could before getting told to pay attention.

As the new testing season came up, Alex and John did the same thing they had last year, writing small hearts until they could talk in person. Two weeks before school had ended, both John and Alex had gotten calls home speaking of an incident that had happened in class. One of the boys had drawn an unsightly picture of a thing with long horns and sharp teeth and underneath written **'My teacher'** , but both the boys said it was themselves. In truth they'd drawn it together, Alex adding the horns and John the teeth, but the grown ups decided to let the boys have a few snickers and leave it at that.

John remembered to say happy birthday to Alex in July, and Alex remembered to say happy birthday to John, and it became a comfortable cycle of talk, sleep, hearts, and jokes. Alex didn't really think of anything in depth before, but after his 8th grade tests something clicked and he realized that John and he were seriously meant for each other. 

He'd only thought of John as a good friend, and nearing the end of school he saw him as some unobtainable crush that was unrequited before realizing that sooner or later John would most definitely love him, and a bunch of butterflies erupted in his chest.

When George listened to the boy talking on and on about his sudden realization he almost groaned but patted his son on the head with a large and hairy hand anyways, smiling wryly and shaking his head. _"Okay."_

Over the Summer he got a phone and suggested that when John did they should text, even though in truth he liked the writing better. It felt like something private; something only themselves could ever see if they wanted it that way. The feeling he got was soothing, like fingertips brushing against him soft and feathery and calmed him down a lot. So did the bruises, but they made him a little sick whenever he saw them because he knew that on John they'd feel horrible.

The Summer before high school, on a Tuesday (he remembered because John had made some stupid pun about the two of them) he accidentally hit his leg on the pool causing a scrape over his knee cap. He didn't really care much about cleaning and decided to leave it, but as soon as he got back inside to take his shower he saw at least eight messages scrawled under his kneecap.

**'Alex, you okay?'**

**'Hellooo?'**

**'Alex, it's been like 2 hours : <'**

**'Are you mad at me?'**

**'Please Alex'**

**'Hmph'**

**'I'll cry if you don't respond'**

**'OKAY I ADMIT IM CLINGY BUT RESPOND'**

**'Please???'**

**Alex furrowed his eyebrows. 'Sorry for worrying you. I was swimming.'**

**'JERK!'**

**'Chill, chill. You get bruises and scratches all the time. You must be super clumsy.'**

**'It's different with you!'**

**'Um not really??'**

**'YES REALLY.'**

**'Whatever. What's up?'**

**'I think I'm moving Lex :\'**

**'To where??'**

**'New York.'**

**'NO WAY'**

**'Yeah, but not the city. This old country house. It big and creepy. My parents divorced, and I'm with dad.'**

Alex didn't really know what to say. Only 1 in 500,000,000 Soulmates ever divorced. Broke up due to turbulence, sure, but not divorce. It was looked down upon by almost everyone, and Alex heard that in law school they didn't even teach how to deal with divorce cases unless absolutely necessary. It must've been horrible for John and his siblings, and Alexander felt the emotion well up in his eyes.

**'Don't you-'**

**'Hate him.'**

**'I'm sorry, John'**

**'It's fine.'**

**'If you ever want to talk, I'm here.'**

**'I'll be fine.'**

**I'm serious, John.'**

**'Okay, oKAY.'**

**'Sigh.'**

**'Can we change the subject?'**

**'Fine. I'm sorta nervous for next month.'**

**'It'll be fun, don't you think?'**

**'I hope.'**

**'It will.'**

And it was. He and the new girl Eliza became best friends, and he couldn't deny that she was funny and pretty. A week in they'd become impossibly close, shit talking about anyone they set their eyes on. Mean, sure, but definitely fun because almost everybody at their school was assholes.

He could've possibly been attracted, except when he saw the picture John had sent him. It was better than Alex could've imagined.

When John had finally gotten a phone for his 13th birthday he had instantly asked for Alex' phone number, and Alex had happily given it. As soon as he got a text from the other he didn't hesitate in asking for a picture. When John had sent it with a nervous 'Well?' He couldn't express the jolt of electricity that went down his spine, and stared in awe for almost 2 full minutes, ignoring the texts he got from John to respond. His eyes roamed over the bright green eyes and curly brown hair, the shy smile and tense shoulders, the splatter of freckles, and he just wanted to reach out and touch it.

He couldn't help writing 'beautiful' on his wrist and then turning back to his phone.

_You: Wow_

_Turtle: STOP EMBARRASSING ME!!!!!  
YOU BETTER SEND A PICTURE OF YOURSELF SO IM NOT EMBARRASSED_

Alex felt a blush dust his cheeks because he was nowhere near as beautiful as John, and just because they were Soulmates didn't mean he was obliged to think the Caribbean teen was **'beautiful'.** He tried out different poses but settled for the most generic one he could find, with his regular shit eating smile and boring brown eyes.

_Turtle: woah i,,,_

_You: IM UGLY YOU DONT HAVE TO REMIND ME_

_Turtle: can you send more_

_You: What_

_Turtle: ALEX SEND MORE_

On his right wrist in gigantic letters, ' **HOT'** was in bold red pen. Alex blushed completely now but sent another picture anyways, hiding his face in his hoodie afterward.

At the Dinner table 4 nights later Martha felt his face repeatedly, asking if he felt alright or had any chills.

He didn't feel alright. He felt weird, like something had gone off inside him as soon as he'd seen John's picture. A burning fire of desire sat in his chest, warm and bright. Devouring his thoughts like a forest fire. He shifted his legs and picked at his chicken because it was weird talking to his parents about this, even if he desperately wanted to. They instilled a deep sense of trust in him. When he had nobody, they were there with accepting arms and warm smiles. He told them practically everything. It would be even more wrong to hold this piece of information back.

He knew about hormones and sex, any teenage boy did, and he'd seen porn once or twice while searching the web out of pure boredom, but he'd never jacked off before and couldn't decide if this was lust or a stomachache.

"Alexander? Why are you crying, son?"

He realized he was crying when he looked down at his jeans and noticed the dark wet teardrops on them, and frantically moved to wipe at his eyes. " I think I'm sick."

"Do you feel hot? I told you, George, he does have a fever!"

"I'm _14_ , mom, and that's not it. It's just..."

"Are there any problems at school?"

"No. I'm talking about John."

"Did you guys have a fight? It's okay, you'll get over it. Me and Geor-"

A fresh new set of tears sprung to his eyes and he dropped his head, face landing straight into his plate as his salty tears and snot mixed with the mashed potatoes. He almost wished he could suffocate in the mushy stuff as another wave of guilt washed over him. He shouldn't be feeling this way about John.

After Martha screeched up a storm and wiped the dinner food off of his face frantically as if it was poison, George called an impromptu meeting and they all sat in the living room, quiet before the deep voice interrupted. "What's wrong, son?"

"Don't _call me_ son," Alex muttered, dejected as he hunched in the recliner.

Martha gasped from the other couch, one hand over her heart and the other over her own forehead. George blinked for a couple of seconds, obviously taken aback before clearing his throat.

"Alexander, do you want to be a moody teenager or tell me and your very worried mother what's wrong?"

Alex groaned and buried his face into the couch cushions before gripping the pillow and yelling. "I FUCKING LOVE JOHN AND I DONT KNOW IF I WANT TO FUCK HIM OR IF IT'S A STOMACHACHE."

There was a silence in the air. "Well, it is normal, love."

"I don't want to feel this way about John, he's _just John._ "

"He's your Soulmate."

"I don't care, he's _John_."

"Again, _your Soulmate._ Do you think talking to him about this would -"

"NO!"

"George, maybe if you guys had a talk man-to-man?"

"NO!!" But Martha stood up anyways, brushing off her skirt and swiftly scurrying out the room.

"Son, you're 14 now. What else would you expect? It's nothing odd. When I was your age I had dreams about your mom all the-"

"DAD-"

"-time. It's a part of life."

Alex groaned and rolled off the couch onto his back, staring a the high ceilings. "He's in New York now. His parents divorced, he moved, he'll have to make new friends. I'm glad he's closer to me, but I don't think he's okay. He seemed off. I'm worried for him and I want to hug him and touch him at the same time, and dad, you don't understand, he's beautiful, breathtaking actually, and I hate all these different vibes my brain is sending me. I feel like an overflowing cup."

"It's okay, Alex. It's okay to be confused. Of course you are, but you have to understand that this isn't the end of the world. You'll overcome this, I'm sure. Just do whatever you think is best for John."

So he did. He talked to John every day to tell him stupid jokes and made sure that he was feeling okay. He asked how school was (and always got a fine) and then talked about his own (which was always eight paragraphs long, but what could he say? {other than everything}) and then rolled his eyes when John asked if he wanted to switch places.

He never mentioned his worry for the other, but it was getting harder each day to ignore the various bruises over his arms and legs. Even his parents had questioned it, and he only shook his head and said 'John,' before going back to his homework or book. He even saw bruises on his lower back and legs, but he was no longer 11 and falling off the bed couldn't explain this. They were everywhere, and it didn't seem possible for John to have any position to sit in that would be comfortable without hitting at least one of the multicolored splotches.

Then at 2:54 am one night he felt the sensation over his upper arm and bolted up, watching in horror as a bright red scar formed. He couldn't tell if it was pen or an actual cut because he wasn't the origin body. It was just a red line over his arms, and he stared dumbfounded as the next one appeared, quick and fast. Surely it was pen. John was probably just drawing.

_You: John, why are you drawing on your arm a 3:00am you weirdo?_

_Turtle: Sorry if I woke you_

_You: Bah, it's fine. Just wait to draw later_

_Turtle: Okay_

_You: You okay????_

_Turtle: Fine_

_You: Are you sure???_

_Turtle: Yesssss Lexxxxx_

_You: Whelp. I'm going back to sleep._

_Turtle: Sweet dreams_

_Turtle: Erm_

_Turtle: I can call you babe right_

_Turtle: JUST TO TRY IT OUT_

Alex felt his heart beat jump from a steady pace to a quick and irregular one.

_You: um_

_You: YES_

_You: GOODNIGHT TURTLE_

_Turtle: GOODNIGHT BABE SWEET DREAMS_

The next day after he got home, he decided that he wanted to FaceTime John, and nothing could stop him even if his stomach did feel like the depths of hell. After he'd gotten home and called out a greeting to his parents (that seemed to be avoiding him and acting like he was the literal child of Lucifer) he ran upstairs and shut his door.

_You: LETS FACETIMEEEEE_

_Turtle: IM UGLY RIGHT NOW-_

_You: SHUTUP ITS IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO BE UGLY NOW LETS DO IT_

_Turtle: FIN E_

Alex bounced in his seat as it rang once, twice, and finally displayed John, sitting crisscrossed on his bed and gnawing at his lips. When his green eyes looked at the screen, Alex got lost in them. His mouth fell open as he stared at the delicate spots of brown thrown across his cheeks. The perfect curve of his jawline, his neck, his chest hidden under that baggy shirt. "Gosh, Lex, am I that ugly?" He turned his attention back to John when he realized the lips were moving. Even if he was trying to sound clever and composed his bright red face gave away his embarrassment.

"NO, NO, YOU'RE-"

"I'm joking. It's nice... seeing you." His words trailed off and they had another period of silence as their eyes darted around (though it was a bit impossible for them to make direct eye contact because the camera was at the top.)

"Gosh, you're so beautiful, John..."

"Y-You're more beautiful."

"You're the most beautiful human being on this planet." John flushed impressively, clearing his throat.

"You're... um... the most beautifullest person in the galaxy."

"WELL UM,, YOU ARE THE MOST BEAUTIFULEREST PERSON IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE TO THE MOST INFINITE POWER EVER."

"Not a thing, Lex."

"I just made it one. I'm the new fad." He winked and fingergunned at the screen as John choked on his own laughter. "That was horrible."

"My life's horrible so it matches."

"Same honestly. How's school?"

"Great, actually. I made a new friend. A couple. We don't really do anything with our lives except act like privileged and posh children."

"Sounds lit."

"YEP. How's school for you?"

John's bright eyes dulled and he averted his gaze, staring at his hands and long sweatshirt sleeves. Alex knew he had made a mistake, but it also gave him insight into the truth that he had suspected all along. Nobody fell accidentally as much as John claimed he did, and that was obvious. The younger tried out a small smile, but the effect was lost; he looked broken. Alex could almost hear the crack inside his chest, accompanied by a flare of anger. "Oh, it's fine. Teachers are cool, I guess."

"Any new friends?"

"No, but that's okay. I-I like being alone, anyways."

"For some reason, I find that a little hard to believe. Don't you think?"

John looked back up to the screen, and Alex saw the development of tears as he stared into the glassy eyes. "Yeah..." He said dazedly, then laughed a pitiful laugh and wiped his eyes. "Gosh, I sound like such a baby, don't I?"

Alex' eyebrows knitted together. It _hurt_ him. "I'm here, John."

"I know, Alex." John was lying. 

Alex wanted to proceed but pressed his lips into a firm line instead. He didn't want to push John over the edge, not unless he knew he was right for sure. He changed the subject, tucking away his bubble of worry for another day. After an hour of talking about irrelevant things and getting lost in _those_ _goddamn_ _eyes_ , Alex checked the time and almost screamed.

"JOHN I HAVE TO DO MY HOMEWORK SORRYYYY!"

"Thank god! I did too but I didn't want to mess this up!"

"You never do, you goof. But I'll try to call whenever I can. Seeing your pig-nosed laugh is true cinematic enlightenment."

"Whatever, Lex. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you."

"Love you too, Turtle. Bye."

He hung up and sighed. His brain couldn't focus on the homework, only the fact that he was worried and scared for John, and he felt the strong need to protect. The whole week he tried to FaceTime as much as he could with the other, because he was especially worried, but John was the master of diverting attention. For 5 months, Alex was lost in his different jokes and his eyes and his beautiful voice and he almost forgets the cause for his worry. John's smile didn't look broken; it looked beautiful and lively. He couldn't possibly be bullied or sad. And he ignored John's long sleeves, even in the Spring, and willed himself to believe that those were only drawings with pen and instead listened to John fret over their upcoming tests.

And when tests came, Alex pushed it out of his mind completely, making space for the large amounts of information he would be receiving. He wrote the heart on his wrist and got one back, and wrote out equations and explanations in his messy writing, and when it was over he was more than relieved. Summer was two weeks away, and he was ready. This time, he had a plan.

"John, whhhheeeere do you live?"

"Stonehouse Manor. It literally has a name. Cause it was built a thousand years ago or something."

"That's cool I guess. Sounds like a fucking horror movie."

"I know, right? Mourn for me when I get murdered."

"Shh, don't worry. I'll identify your body."

"Thanks, babe. Think you did well on the tests?"

"I'm getting worse every year, honestly. What about you?"

"I'm getting better," John winked and sneered, shifting his position. Alex didn't miss his sharp intake of air when he accidentally hit one of his bruises. That's when he remembered his worry from before, and this time he promised to himself that he wouldn't forget.

When Summer came, Alex was ready. He guessed his assumptions about John being bullied were wrong; or maybe half wrong, because over the Summer the bruises didn't stop. Only worsened until they were spread out across his upper thighs and shoulder blades and hips. They were starting to be in more secretive places of his body, but Alex refused to think of anything worse than physical abuse. That had to be where it stopped. John would be okay soon, the elder would make sure of it. He told himself as the first week passed that over and over as a silent mantra.

He talked to John every day, watched as he smiled and laughed and grinned and yelled and blushed, and he seemed fine. He seemed like he was getting better. Alex felt relieved but still observed him closely.

His relief came crashing down the following Saturday night.

He was used to the feeling ghostly fingers over his skin and used to seeing the marks afterward. When he was awoken at 12:00 to the feeling of fluttering sensations over his stomach he wasn't surprised when he looked down 30 minutes later and saw 5 bruises over his stomach. They were an ugly kind of beautiful, like a painting, but Alex watched as more formed, becoming too many to count. After what seemed like an eternity they stopped, but now 18 or so bruises were everywhere. He'd never seen so many in one day on his body. It was like a painting drowned in highly saturated paint.

He waited a little longer, unsure of what to do. He grabbed his phone from his bedside table and sat up.

_You: Turtle_

_You: Turtl e_

_You: Are you okay_

_Turtle: Sorry for waking you up_

_You: John, what happened_

_Turtle: Nothing. I'm fine now._

_You: You know you're a horrible liar_

_Turtle: I_

_You: Want to FaceTime me or something_

_Turtle: No, I'm fine-_

_You: Please?_

_Turtle: Alex, I can't_

But Alex was already calling, and John felt the obligation to pick up even though his eyes were red and carried dark bags under them and he was holding a razor in his hand. He remembered through the fog in his head that he should hide it ( _manners_ ) so he stuck it in his lap and wiped hurriedly at his eyes. Alex' face appeared over the screen, but it didn't have the same effect as it always did on John.

His shoulders didn't untense, and he didn't feel relief overtake him. He just felt the jittery unstableness of fear. "Hey, Lex."

"Turtle, what's wrong?" John shook his head, blank eyes staring at his hands.

"Nothing, Lex." _Everything, Lex._

"Stop lying."

"I'm not, it's just-" He struggled to make words out of his feelings, because he didn't know what he was feeling anymore.

"John, I'm here." John looked up sharply and shook his head. Alex could never understand the pain of being hated by his own father, or the pain of losing sleep because every position was uncomfortable. One thing he could feel was the lump in his throat growing by the second, the tightness of his chest and water welling in his burning eyes. "John, _I'm here_."

He shook his head faster now, gripping his hair and struggling to catch his breath. Alexander wasn't there. He was 2 hours away in New York City, and John was alone in a dark room and a dark house that hated him. The tears finally fell from his eyes. He didn't feel anything at once. It was an overload of everything from that day that had decided to come out at its own whim. "Y-You're not h-here," he whimpered.

"Everything's w-wrong and dark, _so d-dark_ , and you're not here. I'm so alone, Lex." Did he feel alone? Is that what this was?

"I'm sorry, John." Alex willed himself not to cry at the pitiful sight before him, of how helpless he felt. John was breaking down in front of him and all he could do was whisper meaningless words into a speaker. The younger teen wiped furiously at his eyes.

"I...I think I should go." All John could feel was pain.

"John-" The screen went black, and Alex felt utterly hopeless. He fell back into his fluffy duvet, but made no move to text the other. Maybe he needed some alone time. After all, Alex did, too. His brain was swimming with too many thoughts at once. He decided to close his eyes and sleep.

He gave John time. His birthday passed, and with it came his driver's permit. It would've all been great, except he was deflated when he saw no messages or hearts from John at all. It felt horrible, but he left it how it was. School came, and he still hadn't heard from the green eyed teen (it felt wrong to call him a Soulmate. How could they be Soulmates if Alex didn't even know how to comfort him?) He was still drowning in homework, so he tried to focus on that and the driving lessons George gave him in one of his old Mercedes. He learned his traffic rules and codes of courtesy and how to parallel park (for the most part) and even though there was no real use of the Benz in packed and public transportation driven New York City, it would definitely help out in the country. Just in case.

October 28th came, and he wrote out the heart on his wrist. Somehow the red ink was almost painful, like a knife searing his skin. He got no response back but could still lean on the reassurance that John had at least seen it, because as long as John got bruises the teen could be sure he was still alive. He went on with life until Fall Break, and watched as the snow fell outside. Early that year, sure, but everyone had expected it. Even though it had been only a month and 2 weeks since school's start, it felt like an eternity. He was weighed down with his constant worries for John. They never stopped unless he could fully divert his attention onto an equally consuming subject, which was literally nothing except for sleep. The irrational fear that John would ignore him forever burned in the back of his head, and it's possibility loomed closer each passing day.

Then, 2 days into the break at 10:00 pm, Alexander received the unexpected phone call. When he saw who it was he lunged for it and pressed it to his ear in record time. "John!"  
All he heard in response were heavy and short breaths. It took him a few moments to realize that they were sobs. John was crying. He felt the invisible fingertips again, over his inner arm's veins and watched as a vertical line appeared, much to jagged to be the controlled ink of a pen.

"John?!" He asked again, his voice and octave higher.

"Alex, I'm scared."

His brown eyes widened as he bolted up, grabbing his coat and putting it on before running downstairs. "What's wrong?" He didn't think as he walked to his parents room. It was out of primal instincts, base emotions when he knocked and twisted the knob open anyways as sobs sounded over the line. "Dad, please drive me to Stonehouse Manor. Now."

George didn't miss the panic in his son's voice, and didn't ask any questions though his eyes held them all. He didn't hesitate to get up and put on his robe or grab the keys, even if he did look half as startled as the shorter body standing before him. Alex entered the address into his father's phones as quick as his numb fingers could move, then went back to his phone, unmuting it and placing it to his ear.

"John, are you still there?"

"I-I can't t-take it, Lex."

"Take what, Turtle? It's okay, you can tell me. I'm here. I'll be there. Tell me what's wrong so I can help." Alex' voice tried to keep his fear from seeping into his shaking voice. He had to stay strong now, for John. He had to protect John.

"M-My father, he went too far a-a-and he tried to- _he promised he wouldn't go that far,_ I-I screamed a-and he left but I c-can't stop... it won't s-stop and _I can't s-stop_ and my head hurts and I-I can't sleep because they a-always hurt so much but I'm... I'm so _tired_ , Lex."

Alex' breath hitched in his throat. He was speechless, but he knew he had to say something. Every second bared the risk of John hanging up on him, and he knew that could be fatal. "John, just stay with me for awhile, okay? What's your favorite song?"

"W-What?"

"You know. Music. What do you like listening to?"

"I... I'm not sure. Bruno Mars and Michael Jackson, but I don't have any favorite songs. What a-about you?"

"505 by Arctic Monkeys. They're really... idk. Lit."

"Yeah? Maybe I'll try them out...." Alex gnawed at his lip and kept bombarding John with his unimportant facts and inquiries. As long as it distracted him. They were driving down the road at 80 miles per hour, speeding past the stone that melted into the grass of New York's country side. It seemed like forever but was really only 2 hours. 10 more minutes, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. When they pulled into the long driveway of the mansion Alex jumped out of the car, almost busting his head on the concrete and pounded on the door.

"John, open!" He waited, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he thought of all the worst case possibilities appearing before him. It opened a crack, then wider, and he could practically hear the nerves buzzing in phis head. And there he stood, skinny and pale in a sweatshirt that hadn't looked that big on him 4 months ago. His tired eyes widened and he stood there speechless, tears suspended in his eyes, hair messy and splayed everywhere, wrist bandages bloody and exposed. His phone clattered to the ground. Alex noticed, in some type of horror that there was blood over his white boxers. 

"A-Alex." His shoulders shook.

The tears in his eyes fell, and Alex moved forward to take the body into his arms. He pressed the shorter's face into the space between his shoulder and neck, resting his head atop John's. He didn't know what to do with the overwhelming mix of euphoria and burning concern that washed over him other than pulling him closer. He felt the hem of his shirt turn wet, but the tears didn't stop. After a few minutes he began to worry that he'd become dehydrated and decided that he should maybe try to move him. His tried to move his arm, but the grip around him only tightened. "John, we should move."

"P-Please do-don't leave, Lex. D-don't..."

"I don't think this is safe. Where's your father? Don't you think-?"

John started sobbing again, and Alex looked back at his own parent for advice. Washington stepped forward, looking uncomfortable but lifting his chin in an authoritative gesture. "Well, we can't take you from your legal guardian without permission..." Alex gave him a withering glare, and his bushy brows furrowed. "I'd have to notify him...."

"Write a letter or something. Call the damn po-"

John clutched his sleeve tightly. "Please, don't. Please, please, not right now." His Soulmate nodded in understanding.

"Dad! We can't just leave him here!"

"Only for tonight. We'll get things sorted out tomorrow. Sound good, son?" John could barely meet his eyes, but he nodded stiffly. Alex took his hand, pulling him to the car and pushing his tense shoulders down as they sat in the backseat. John wince s in disco,fort when he sat. Alex cleared his dry throat multiple times.

This wasn't how he imagined anything happening four years ago but here he was, festering a strong hate for John's father and for himself as the other sat next to him staring down at his lap. George sat stone faced in the front seat, gripping the steering wheel with white hands. From the corner of his eyes Alex saw the long eyelashes fluttering closed then opening again, wide and quick before repeating the process over again.

He offered his hand out and John took it, squeezing it with trembling fingers. The Caribbean teen pulled him closer, forcing his head onto his shoulder. "Sleep, John." He whispered, and 2 minutes later soft snores came from next to him. He stroked his nimble fingers through the curls as soothingly as he could. The drive took longer than it should because George was going 40 even though the limit was 60. After 3 hours of uncomfortable silence they came home to their fully lit house. Alex shook John awake and led him through the door, stabilizing him as he stumbled on clumsy feet.

They were showered in questions from an alarmed mother that only multiplied when she caught sight of the dried blood on John's sleeve. "Oh honey, we have to disinfect that! Come here, love."

Alex let John get whisked out of his arms, not daring to say a word. Even he knew better than to stand up to a worried Martha. Him and his father trailed behind her as she sat him on the couch, and she snapped at George to go get the whistling tea that she had set on the stove "before it gives the poor child a headache."

Alex gave her the first aid kit that he'd been told to fetch from the bathroom and she set to work, gentle hand unwrapping and dabbing the cut with an alcohol wipe in the pattern only a mother could master. When he stood so she could start wrapping the wound, she gasped out loud. "Your- Your boxers, sweetheart, they're-" John felt dizzy and he sat back down. When she hugged him with understanding and true apology, he might've cried. "I'm so sorry." Alex had to step out for a few moments, with all the emotion flowing through that small space.

She rewrapped it carefully and then went to give John, who looked shell shocked and more than confused, a cup of tea.

"I'm not sure if you like tea, but it helps your nerves, so I suggest you drink it.

John took it and looked down, opening and closing his mouth multiple times and clutching his cup tighter. "T-Thank you, Ma'am."

"No need to thank me, dearie. And you can call me Martha. Ma'am makes me feel so old. Now while you enjoy that cup of tea, Alexander and I have to have a little chat. So you just stay right there and we'll be back before you know it, okay?"

 

Martha pulled Alex by his wrist to the kitchen with an iron grip, though he already knew he was in trouble when he heard his first name cross the pursed smile on her lips. Her brown eyes met his own and Alex had almost forgotten how _terrifying_ her glares could be. "Any explanation for that?" Alex knew it was the wrong answer but he just shook his head and lamely cleared his throat for the fiftieth time that night.

"Well, I suggest you come up with one because there's a boy in there that I'm guessing is your Soulmate looking like a bloody bomb went off on him, not to mention it 3:30 am! When were you going to tell us, hm? How many scars does he have, Alex? Did you see what his father did to him?! Is this where all those bruises are coming from?!"

Even if Alex was taller than her, Martha had him shrinking down to her eye level as he hunched his shoulders. He felt the guilt come back to him and tears well in his eyes, but he was able to murmur out an answer. "I-It wasn't my business to tell, Mom. And I thought I could handle it and be strong." He looked like a wounded puppy as his watery eyes traveled down to the ground, and Martha sighed closing her eyes shut for a few brief seconds.

"Being strong isn't about doing it all alone. You can only do so much, Alex. I understand and I'm appreciative that you wanted to protect John, but he could've died if you hadn't made your father rush over there. It doesn't surprise me you dolts didn't call the ambulance for him, so you two had better be glad that cut didn't bleed as much as it should've. For all we know he could have internal bleeding going on as we speak. You have to start thinking about these reckless actions you keep making before it gets you cornered."

She stared seriously into her son's eyes. A drip fell from the sink faucet.

"I swear I won't do it again. I'm really sorry, Ma." His guilty gaze traveled back to the egg white tiles. He fiddled with his thumbs. Martha sighed once again.

"Alex, honey look back up." She lifted his quivering chin, staring at his face. In her eyes, the teen in front of her was just a child. Her baby boy Alexander, her little joy, messing up like any child would. She couldn't bare to leave him with such cold words.

"You did the right thing, getting there so fast and staying on the phone with him. Life-saving, very likely. I'm proud of you despite the mistakes you made." She hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead then dabbed at her own tears. "Now then, let's try to get this all sorted out."

 

John sat on the couch clutching his cup tightly as George sat across from him strumming his fingers on the coffee table. The teen felt the older man's eyes on him but he didn't look up, only stared at his reflection in the tea and shifted awkwardly. When Alex and Martha walked back in he almost sighed in relief. Alex walked over to sit next to him as Martha stood next to George. "What's was your name again, sweetheart? John?"

John nodded and Martha smiled. "It's certainly nice to meet you. We've heard a lot about y-"

"Mom!" Alex felt his ears turn red. He gave her an embarrassed glare as John snickered next to him and tried to swallow the tea without choking. Martha waved her hand. "Fine, fine. I won't. But it really is nice seeing you here, dear. Even if the circumstances aren't... _ideal._ "

"Thank you, Martha. I um... don't mean to be a bother, and I'm sorry for waking you all up." Martha shook her head again, elbowing George who had already drifted to sleep and was beginning to snore loudly. "Oh no, that's fine. I never get much sleeping with this bear, anyways." George nodded his head before slumping onto his shoulder. Martha sighed but didn't move to wake him up again.

"I think it'd be best if we all got some sleep. It'll be a...long day tomorrow. You can shower and... clean up a bit in the bathroom. And you can sleep in the guest bedroom. It's not the warmest, but the bed is comfortable enough. If you have any problems you can just come downstairs and tell us, okay? I left you some painkillers on the table." John nodded and walked after Maria as she showed him the guest room. He held his tongue as she closed the door behind him. The warm and homey atmosphere was a complete 180 from his cold and spacey house. It felt wrong to be in these people's home, even for the night, but he sat down on the soft mattress anyways and reminded himself that tomorrow he would be back in his own house where he belonged, and not intruding on other's lives.

 

He tossed and turned because the covers were too warm and the bed was too soft and everything felt too right. 30 minutes later, after he heard the Washingtons say their goodnights from the hall and the lights clicking off he couldn't stop his feet from walking down the long dark hallway leading to the white oak door with the worn Keep Out! sign and block letter A. H. on it. He hesitated, feeling his heart beat in his chest rapidly. He gnawed at his lip and raised his hand up and then brought it back down, then raised it again. After 5 minutes he finally knocked, staring at his bare feet on the wood floors.

It opened, shedding a pale yellow stream of light over his left eye. Alex smiled and leaned in, resting his elbow on the frame. "Hi, John. Or should I say my mom's replacement son?"

John blushed softly, hoping Alex couldn't tell in the semi-dark. "Hi, Alex. Just saying goodnight."

"More like good morning. At this rate, I'll be staying up all night."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll go-" He backed away but his wrist was gripped by a firm hand, pulling him past the doorway and into the room. John fell in, extremely tense because he hadn't been in anybody else's room since 3 years ago. He took in the lit fairy lights taking up the farthest wall and the posters scattered everywhere. The gray covers and black furniture, the picture of him and George on a fishing trip, the door leading to the attached bathroom. It was everything compared to his bare walls and white sheets.

_"Wow."_

"You know, since you woke me up you could at least stay for awhile."

"Um...."

"Come on, don't be boring. What harm could it do? I'm not going to rape you or anything!"

John flinched and stepped back towards the door, pressing his shoulder blades against it and shifting his gaze back to the ground. "O-Of course." Tears welled in his eyes, but he supposed it didn't matter because it was for the fifth time that day. The lump that had been there all night in his throat swelled.

"Oh- I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean- I'm not-" He sighed and threw his head back. "I'm dumb and I'm sorry."

"I know it was a joke, Lex. Should I... should I still call you that? It's a little weird now that I'm right here. Different, yeah?"

Alex nodded, stepping closer to him and resting his elbows (that's all he ever did, rest his elbows on places) on John's shoulders. He tried not to revel in how good it felt to _touch_   _John_ and met the others' confused soft green eyes with hooded lids. He leaned in towards the bright red ears and pressed his lips against the stretch of skin underneath in his boldest show of courage yet. "You can call me Daddy."

John instantly pushed his shoulders off, face dark red but cracking up none the less. He ignored the flutter of something, _desire_?, in his lower gut. He rested his forehead against Alex' chest, trying to control his laughter so he wouldn't wake up the couple downstairs. "You're so corny!"

Alex grinned and shrugged, sitting down on his bed and pulling John along with him. He felt like killing as he gasped put in pain, but John did well at hiding it.

"Uh- It was a nice try, right?" John shook his head vigorously.

"Horrible, actually. You're going to have to work on it."

"Fine, fine. Meanwhile, let's just lay under the stars like we're in a Chick Flick." He wrapped his arm around the other's shoulders and pulled him down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Alex." John deadpanned. "You need stars to sleep under them, smart one."

"I know." The taller reached over and flicked off his fairy lights as John stared at the stretch of lean stomach revealed. In the dark, glowing green dots appeared above them, spread out across the ceiling in varying shapes and brightnesses. John stared up, mouth agape. Alex pulled him closer, trying not to come off as pushy as he melted into the other's body. Was this too fast? They had just met in person that day, after all.  _Did he care?_   "Romantic, right?"

"I gave up on you being romantic that time you drew you and me on your arm at the paintball picnic."

"It was true artistry, I'm telling you."

"How'd you do this?"

"It was actually from a long time ago. I begged Dad and he finally gave in after a month. Took an hour, I think. It's nice to look at, but they wear off after a couple of hours."

"Doesn't matter. We'll be asleep by then. It's really calming."

"We? So you're staying?" Alex smiled wider, brown eyes glowing in the moonlight streaming in from the window. John turned towards him then back to the ceiling. "Only for the stars. You're- _They're_ a good distraction. Plus, it's cold in the guest room."

"I could warm you up a little more. Give you a better distraction, too..." His other arm snaked around John's waist but didn't move any further. This was more than enough and much more than he expected, and he wouldn't dare do anymore. It was a little overwhelming knowing that if he really wanted to he could, that John was here and that he trusted him.

"Oh, shut up." John closed his green eyes and smiled, burying his face into the collarbone that smelled like the ocean and cookies. It was a decidedly weird but comfortable scent so he relaxed into the strong arms.

"So you're _sleeping_ now? Thought you weren't tired."

"I'm _not_. I'm just closing my eyes for a bit."

Alex grinned and buried his hands into the curls, trying to ignore the fact that this amazingness couldn't last forever and that tomorrow they'd have to face a monster and instead focus on John's soft breaths and constellation freckles and parted lips and his warmth, and take the moment for what it was.

_"Goodnight, John."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too horrible because I never edited but with my luck it's probably horrible so???? The storyline is pretty fast and badly put together but that's the point of writing practice you have been blessed Kudo and Comment anyways okay just to let me know its horrible thanks babes :^) The next chapter will be Free! so yeah


	2. Colors - MakoHaru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto doesn't know what's happening, but maybe he shouldn't be as heartbroken as he is, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look my run-on sentences and OOC characters are back but this time it's the Free! Gay Bois™ so you can enjoy and cringe at the same time (also this is really long and there are some trigger warining so watch out for than + smut)

  
"Tachibana, get away from me." The words struck him in the chest.

"Sousuke, please, I-"

"You're disgusting!"

He didn't feel the slap at first; or maybe he did, but his brain didn't want to listen to his cheek's pain receivers because this couldn't possibly be happening. When he did the force was worse than any of the man's former punches.

His soft gray eyes crumbled, shutting closed. He tried to hold back the tears welling in his them, but, well, he'd always been sensitive. Sousuke complained about it constantly, going on about how his tears and swallowed sobs were annoying. Mako knew he was right.

"We're Soulma-"

"If this is what being a Soulmate is, I quit! Now get out of my house and stop making this hard for yourself!" The hands that he had once kissed and held connected with his chest and shoved him forcefully into the door.

Mako could barely find the strength within his clouded mind and weak legs to bring himself to grasp the doorknob behind him. He didn't want to turn around; all that waiting was brown oak wood, and in front of him was the striking dark hair that contrasted beautifully with those pale gray eyes. The face of the man he loved, the face of the man he kissed, the face of the man who showed him what colors were glaring menacingly back at him, face contorted in an expression that the shorter knew all too well by now.

It seemed that the only sound in the room was that of his heart beating. Rapidly, shaking his chest. Like a warning signal telling him to leave. But he couldn't bring himself to move.

"You heard me, whore! Get _out_!"

And with one last suck of breath, he finally turned the knob, running down the stairs and out into the cold night to the beat of his racing heart. He felt the tears sting his cheeks, but he couldn't find it within him to care. He kept running to nowhere, arms pumping and legs straining, but he didn't know where he was going. He only knew he was trying to run away, but it kept catching up to him.

Finally, when his bare feet turned bloody and his throat couldn't take another raspy breath, Mako collapsed onto a bench by the side of the road. He checked the time on his phone with bleary eyes; _2:04_. No trains or buses were running, no midnight joggers. Should he call someone?

Almost everyone was still in the area, except for Rin. After high school had ended, he had decided to take a Summer trip to Australia just to "check out his opportunities." He ended up staying for 3 years, which led to him joining the Australian Dolphins, a national swim team. It'd been nearly 5 years since anybody had seen him, but he always promised he'd visit soon, so Mako had just been sending him care packages monthly until then.

After Nagisa and Rei finished high school, they decided (more like Nagisa begged for almost a year and Rei finally gave in) to make a small bakery, a few blocks away from Iwatobi high, then marry. Rei had, at first, argued at how suddenly it had happened, but Nagisa blatantly ignored him, and Mako had happily helped plan the small event. Only a few people were there, but it was still fun. It made Mako proud to see them standing together, grinning side by side as they cut the cake.

Back then, he and Sousuke were thinking of marriage, too. But they decided to hold off; maybe that had been a sign that Mako missed. It all went downhill from there.

Ren and Ran had just started their Sophomore year of high school at Iwatobi a few days ago, and Mako was overjoyed when Ren said he'd joined the swim team, because, "I wanna be like you, Mako-ani!" Mako was a bit upset that his younger brother had started using the honorific for older brother instead of the actual word, but at least Ran still called him Onnichan when she told him how she won the art contest, so it was fine.

Haru- well, Haru... it was always hard for Mako to think about him, never mind talk about him. After Nagisa and Rei's wedding, he'd barely seen him around. He occasionally texted him, maybe every other two weeks, but seldom got a response. The only proof that he had that the man was still living in Iwatobi was bumping into him every other month at the supermarket. Other than that, they never really hung out.

He couldn't understand what happened to their friendship; they used to be so close in high school. They trusted each other more than they trusted anyone. Maybe even more than they trusted the selves. Even after he met Sousuke, he trusted Haru the most. But then he'd drifted away, and it just... stopped. He didn't want to seem pushy, so he didn't make many moves to reach out again. Often in the middle of the day, he caught himself thinking about his dark locks of hair, where he was, what he was doing with his life.

And now he found himself typing in his number.

After the first two rings, he knew it was stupid that he'd even tried.

Everybody was asleep. It was the middle of the _night_. And even if he was awake, he wouldn't respond. They hadn't talked in two years.

"Hello?"

Mako's desperate breaths stopped.

"Hello, who is this? I'll call the police if this is a prank call."

A wet tear slipped down his face and dripped onto the concrete beneath his feet. "Haru-" He stopped himself from letting the "chan" that wanted to slip out of his mouth through. It felt wrong, anyway.

"Makoto? Is this you? Why are you calling me at 2:04 in the morning?"

Suddenly Makoto didn't feel as panicked as he was.Only nervous. A lump formed in his throat.

"Um, Um-"

"Well?"

"Can I please come over, Haru?"

There was silence for a beat before he responded. "What?"

"I asked if-"

"I mean, yeah, okay, sure."

Mako felt an ashamed kind of flood of relief wash over him and he stood with his shaky legs, brushing off the dirt on his shorts. Sweat prickled near the nape of his neck, slipping down the line of his spine and he scratched his cheek. "Um, thank you. Sorry for waking you up so early."

"I was already awake, but glad to help I guess. Don't leave me waiting for too long."

Mako hung up and walked the mile it took to get to the small house. He stopped in front of the door, hesitatingly raising his hand up then bringing it back down to his side. He brushed down his hair and wiped the sweat off of his neck, then placed his palm on the door, finally forming a fist and knocking.

The wait felt like forever, even though it was only a few seconds. When the door was finally opened blank blue met flat gray. "Hello, Makoto."

"Haru-ch-"

" _Don't_."

Mako shifted on his feet until his former best friend moved from the doorway, waving his hand. "Don't just stand there."

Mako stumbled in, eyes trained on the familiar wooden floors and stopped in front of the small kitchen table, collapsing into the chair. If nostalgia had a scent, it would be this house.

Haru closed the door behind him and sat on the other chair at the table, resting his cheek on his hand. The sound of his wet hair dripping on the table sounded through the quiet room until his low voice finally broke the silence.

"Why are you here?"

"I just felt like visiting. We haven't talked in so lo-"

"Makoto, it's 2:30 am and you're sitting in my house wearing your boxers and a t-shirt after us not talking for, oh, I don't know, forever? What's going on? Did someone die or something?"

"No..." Mako shook his head and balled up the cloth of his shorts in his fists as he squeezed his thigh. The shorter man waited patiently for an answer but sighed after not getting one. "Mako, tell me why you're here."

"I..."

"I just want to know. I won't get mad."

"I- I-" The words were lodged in his throats because not even he could believe it. He felt tears forming in his eyes but blinked them back. He felt sick. Nobody left their Soulmates. It was wrong. It meant that you were screwed up.

"Sousuke kicked me out, I don't think- We're not together anymore."

It only made it worse when the eyes in front of him widened by visible centimeters, and the mouth hung open for a few unadulterated seconds. The tears finally fell down Mako's cheeks, pink with embarrassment and shame. "Did he- there's a bruise on your cheek, did he hit you? He _hit_ you."

Mako shook his head in earnest, rubbing at the sore splotch on his lower jaw. "He didn't. It was only a slap." They were quiet for a few more moments as Haru realized he was crying. It was overwhelming seeing him cry; Mako never cried.

"I-I bruise easily. Remember that time when we were in the pool and you accidentally-"

"Mako, he can go to _jail_ for that shit!"

"He didn't mean to! I was being stressf-"

"Just... Shutup! Let me get you some ice."

Haru stood and walked to the freezer to get a pack of frozen tilapia, handing it to the other and averting his gaze. "Hold it there for a bit. It looks painful." When Makoto tried to raise it to his face his trembling fingers didn't cooperate and the packet dropped against the table with a dull thud. He stared at it for a while, because he'd been processing everything slowly that night, and then more tears rose to his eyes. Sure, he felt stupid for crying over something so simple and insignificant, but that didn't stop his lip from quivering and the tears from falling onto the table like little raindrops.

"Why are you crying?"

More sobs racked his body because he couldn't explain. Haru didn't know what to do, so he just stood and stared, but after a few moments he stepped forward and scooted a chair in front of the crying man's, grabbing the frozen fish. He reached out a hand to tilt the wet cheeks towards him but put it back down when he flinched back.

"Turn this way. I'm not going to hurt you."

He reached out his hand again, grasping the chin firmly and pressing the packet to his cheek. Mako's eyes were closed, wet eyelashes resting over his dark eye bags. It stayed like that until the thumb of Haru's other hand reached out and decided to wipe the tears off of the pink cheeks because it made him... uncomfortable. That's it. Uncomfortable.

"Why'd you stop talking to me, Haru-chan?"

"Well, that honorific was one of the reasons." The gray eyes opened again, and the intensity was almost scary. "Haru..."

"You didn't have any time for me. It's not like I avoided you or anything."

"I missed you. We were such good friends, we- we are still friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah..." Mako closed his eyes again and leaned into the hand that rested on his cheeks, shoulders falling. "Yeah, that's good."

"Don't fall asleep on my hand. Your head's heavy."

"Sorry." Mako moved back, clearing his throat. His eyes flitted to the stove clock. 3:47. "Haru, do you have work tomorrow?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. The Pet Shop at 8:30."

"Sleep on my couch."

"I can-"

"Oh, don't start. Just do it." Haru stood and threw the fish back into the freezer.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Makoto."

"Absolutely?"

He was yanked up and guided to the couch. "Go to sleep so you can wake up tomorrow."

"I don't-"

A pillow and cover were thrown at his face. "Goodnight, Mako. We'll talk tomorrow."

  
After work the next day, Mako didn't know where he should go; he turned in the direction of his and Sousuke's house before realizing it wasn't really his anymore, and then towards Haru's house before realizing that he was intruding on the man's life. He sat down on the bench behind him, staring at the concrete ground and the cracks within it.

Seconds leaked into minutes that leaked into an hour, and he wondered if maybe he could just stay there for the night. He didn't feel up to facing anyone, and his feet were starting to ache in the $4 sandals he'd bought at the convenience store that morning. He closed his eyes as a defense against the hot sun and pulled at his hair because that always helped him think faster.

His skull still felt like it was crushing under pressure when he tried to take in everything that had happened in the past 18 hours. How would he get his things? Where would he go? How could he tell his parents and siblings? Would his boss let him work overtime? He tightened his hold on his hair until nausea filled his stomach. He imagined the pain as Sousuke, pulling and pulling like he always did because Mako was such a horrible-

"Makoto."

Smooth palms rested over his knuckles and folded over his fingers. He clenched his hands tighter. "Makoto, let go."

He didn't open his eyes because even if the smell of mackerel surrounded him and he felt the short strands of hair prickling his collarbones, he didn't want it to be Haru. He didn't want to be here when he could have been at home with Sousuke cooking a pot roast and have the man laugh at how much he burnt himself on the stove.

"Makoto! Let go!"

He just wanted to be home. That's all that- "Mako-chan, please."

He finally opened his eyes, focusing them on the ones in front of him. They held each other's gazes for a long time. The pain hit him like a truck. He dry heaved towards the floor, but nothing but clear liquid appeared. "Mako, you're okay. _You're_ _okay_."

The cool fingers massaged his stinging head, barely grazing his scalp but miraculously managing to calm him. "Mako, you're still yourself without him. Come on, let's walk home. Walk home with me."

He nodded and let himself be pulled up and guided blindly on and off of a train. When Haru took off his shoes for him he cursed loudly. "What happened to your feet?"

"I'm sorry, Haru-chan."

"Makoto, this can get infected!" He ran to his bathroom and came back with rubbing

alcohol that he poured over the cuts and bruises. The taller would've cried, but he felt too tired to do anything but nod and fall back onto the wooden floors. After the raven was done, he bandaged them a lot more carefully than he'd done anything in a while.

"Come on, at least sit on the couch." Makoto shook his head.

"I don't want to move."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Haru made his way over and laid down next to him on the floor a few feet away. "Okay."

"I- Haru, you really don't have to..."

"Didn't you say you didn't want to move?"

"W-Well I don't want you to lay on the floor! It's cold and uncomfortable!" Haru just stared at him before he processed the point. "I'm... I'm not like you."

"And why not?" Haru inched closer until their shoulders brushed. Mako held back his urge to flinch and instead pressed his upper arm flush against the warmth next to it. He trusted Haru. How could he not trust Haru?

"I don't know, it's just..." He worked and worked his brain to find a suitable definition to encapsulate everything he felt, everything he wanted and needed to say, everything he couldn't say to anybody else but the man next to him. Whenever he tried to move his words past the lump in his throats they'd just clog up more, but he couldn't possibly understand why. This was Haru; Haru, his friend he'd know since Elementary and on. Haru, who was there always, who'd seen him go through his best and worst- or did he?

Was that it? Was he scared of messing up his image? And why would even that matter? Haru was... Haru. _Right_?

"It's okay. You don't have to answer right now."

"No, No, I want to-

"Mako, it's okay."

"It's not! I'm not _weak_ , Haru!" Tears beaded in the corners of his eyes. "I'm not."

"You're not. You're not, I know." The other arm draped over his shoulders. "You're strong. Don't let somebody take away your meaning. I promise you, you're still you."

The gray eyed man allowed the taller to cry bitterly into the collar of his work uniform and he observed, following the fat tears as they rolled down his chin and into the creases of his neck. Near the end of it all, he started to rub a curl of hair underneath one of the red ears, because he had always found it cute how that small strand had been there since forever.

"Are you cold?"

"Yes."

Haru stood and Mako followed him to his bedroom, where he nodded to the bed and gave him a second cover. "You can sleep there."

"W-Where will you be?" For some reason, the taller man felt a wave of distress at just the thought of Haru leaving him while he slept. After the question, he started to anxiously gnaw on his lip. Who was he to ask him such things? He braced himself for a slap over the face.

"I'll be right here, Mako. I'll be on the ground. I won't sleep till you do."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Now sleep, tomorrow is a Tuesday. Didn't you say those were busiest?"

Mako nodded and laid down on the soft pillow, inhaling the scent of fish and rain that swarmed the room and calmed him down.

  
While Tuesdays were the busiest days, Fridays were the slowest, and 10 days later Mako found himself thinking about what to do next.

Over the weekend, Haru had suggested that they go over to Sousuke's together for his things, but he'd shook his head frantically and they instead went to a night market that had great jumbo shrimp. He had asked for extra hours from his boss, so that started next week. He figured he should probably start looking for an apartment himself, for obvious reasons. And lastly, and most difficult, he needed his _stuff_.

Mako's been rolling the idea around for a while ever since Haru and asked about it, but he could never bring himself to accept what that meant. He couldn't even think about him, so how could he stand 4 feet away from him and look him in the eyes? The thought made him sick, but by the end of the day instead of turning left for the train to Haru's, he turned right and marched to his... former apartment.

' _You're strong, you're strong.'_ He chanted the words in his head. Haru was barely ever wrong, so he couldn't have been lying. The closer he got, the more nervous he felt until he was right in front of the door. He knocked softly, and when the door swung open it was almost like he was pushed by back some invisible force spurred by his own fear. The tall man's intimidating sneer almost got the best of him, and Haru's voice in his brain sounded a lot farther away than it was seconds ago.

"Well if it isn't the stray! How'd you like the streets?"

"I- I've come to- for m-my stuff!"

"Really? I thought you came because you were a little whiny shit."

Mako tried his best to let the insult swing over his head. "Give me my things!"

"Aww, you think getting all red and flustered will make me move faster? That's _adorable_."

"I-I could sue you!" Sousuke laughed and leaned down.

"Oh really? For what? Because I hurt your feelings?"

"For... please, just give me my things!"

The taller finally turned around, walking back into the house and giving Makoto the opportunity to wipe the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. He felt like sitting down on the stairs, but he wouldn't be any shorter than he already was. It was amazing how he felt the 1 and a half inch between them now when it had never mattered before. When he came back he had four plastic bags, handing them to him one by one. "Your bathroom shit and the shit from the closet. Oh, and these crappy shoes."

"I- But I thought y-you liked my shoes! You said that when I bought them-"

"Well, you thought I loved you, too, so I don't understand what the problem is."

"Sousuke, come on!" The yell came from inside the house.

"Yeah, wait, I'm almost finished!"

The brown-haired man felt tears gather all too fast. "W-who's that?" He got a seldom used look of pity that he wished he hadn't. "I think you should _go_ , Tachibana." The door closing shut solidified he'd already known was gone.

He walked to Haru's with his bags but made sure to put on a bright smile before he knocked on the door. Haru opened it, surprised splattered across his features. "You went to get your stuff?"

"Yep!" Mako nodded, sitting it on the floor and starting to take off his shoes. "It was surprisingly easy~ Thanks for the advice, Haru-chan!" Haru stared at him for a few seconds before humming in hesitant approval. "Well, I'm glad you're happy."

Mako nodded again. "I should cook dinner for you! As a celebration."

"Oh, speaking of Dinner. Rei and Nagisa invited us to theirs for Saturday. I said we'd come."

"Ah! I haven't even seen them in two years! I'd feel horrible accepting something..."

"I'm sure they won't mind."

Mako looked down to his hands, cracking his knuckles repeatedly and scratching at his cuticles until they bled. "Really? What do you think they'll say about me and Sou-"

"Makoto, they miss you."

"... Do you want some Mackerel? I found this great new recipe online that I've been meaning to try." Haru wanted to say more, do more, but gave a heavy sigh instead. "Yeah, okay."

Over the table, Haru grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Hey. You don't have to be so _strong_."

  
A week later after take-out, they sat on the couch watching a Netflix documentary. Mako was almost scared how comfortable he had become slouching on this couch after work or on the weekends, but Haru just shooed him off when he asked if he could contribute to any expenses. It made him feel like a burden, but he was happy that at least the other let him cook him meals every other day.

Abruptly, in the middle of one of them, Haru stood. "I want to take a walk to the beach."

"What?"

"I'm going to the beach."

"Haru, it's 11:00 pm."

But Haru paid no mind, slipping on his flip-flops and walking out the door. "C'mon." Mako felt the obligation to follow.

"Why so suddenly?! It's dark outside! There might be _sharks_!"

"It's prettiest at night. The water sparkles." Their eyes connected for a moment longer than they should've. _"It's beautiful."_

"A-Ah." Makoto kept staring at the ground in flustered silence until it switched from crumbly concrete to soft sand. He hadn't been there in awhile, either, but he'd always loved going to the beach with Haru, Rin, Nagisa, and Rei. They would have sparklers and drinks and run around for hours in nothing but swim shorts as the tiny sparks would reflect in the light of their eyes. Of course, that was before he'd met Sousuke. It seemed like a lot of things stopped when he started dating him.

They walked in a kind of reticent silence along the shoreline, water rising and falling beneath their feet. After they'd been on for about 2 miles they turned around to start home. Mako ignored the stinging beneath his bandages and instead focused on the wind biting at his nose and ears. It was a lot colder out than he'd dressed for, and over the course of the walk, he slowly gravitated towards Haru until their shoulders touched.

"My hands are cold." He mumbled.

"Oh?"

" _Yeah_."

Seconds later, he felt fingers locking with his, and he was pulled even closer by an arm looped around his hip. The thumb that rested above the dip of his pelvis unexpectedly began to brush in small circles that made his stomach churn in a mix of things, some he didn't even want to acknowledge, and many that were getting harder **_(ha get it :^) )_** to ignore.

He felt that maybe he should say something, but the air was so thick he could barely breathe without them releasing in fluttering exhales. He felt impossibly hot; every step further he took got more complicated to calculate. He mentally counted the seconds until they were home. After a few missteps over the even ground of the living room, they came to a stop. "Are you still cold?"

The taller took another shuddering breath and met the pale eyes, amusement running rampant in them.

"H-Haru..."

"Makoto?"

He didn't know what he was thinking. This was wrong. He already had a soulmate, and he'd _believed_ in that. Unlike some of his friends, he'd been raised in a True-Soul household. His parents believed a person could only be truly happy with the first Soulmate they met, though many scientists were starting to suggest that a person could possibly have up to 2. He agreed. It was one of the only things he had established throughout his life that had stayed constant.

He believed that Sousuke loved him. Ever since Freshman year in college, when they'd first met, he believed in that love. After all, if he hadn't then why did Makoto see colors when they first kissed? Why was he so in love with him no matter how hard he was punched and how often he was bruised and how brutally he was fucked? Why did he cling harder when he should've run away?

He depended on him. That was love, _wasn't_ _it_?

But now, as a hand rested at the base of his back, he'd felt more confused than he had in so, so long. He didn't back away. "Haru, I don't know what to do."

"What do you want, Makoto?"

"I- Sousuke wouldn't-"

"Sousuke isn't living your life. _You_ are."

"I..."

The hand previously holding his moved above its counterpart to the back of his head, pushing it down so Haru's hot- god, _he was so hot_ \- mouth could press against his red ears. "What do you _want_?"

Makoto swallowed so loudly he was sure the next town over could hear it. "I-I... I want you. I want you, Haru." That was all it took to set the raven off. His hands entangled in the brown locks of hair and his lips connected with the juncture between his shoulders and neck. The taller finally gave himself what he longed for, hands slipping up the back of the other's shirt and roaming everywhere they possibly could.

He tilted his head back, moans cut short for rushed breaths that he could barely puff out.

"Fuck, can I-" The breathy gasp against his clavicle sent shivers up Makoto's body. "Can I kiss you?"

"I'm not... I don't think I'm ready. I'm-"

"Okay, okay, I- Fuck, I won't." Gentle palms pushed him back onto the couch and Haru got upon his knees, hand starting at the jean zipper.

"W-Wait, you'll get b-bruises on your knees i-i-if you do it like that! A-At least-"

"Makoto, just be quiet. I'll be fine. Now, can I? Are you sure about this?"

Mako nodded quickly.

"You have to say yes before I can go on. Do I have your consent?"

"Yes, Haru!"

With renewed fervor, he had the fabric pooled at the man's ankles in seconds, and he stared in amusement at the bulge visible through the tight fabric. He reached out and gave a rub that had Makoto quaking in his spot.

He wondered with the little part of his brain that wasn't totally honed in on every little mewl coming from his partner about how deprived he must've been because he writhed around on the couch like some virgin that had never had any intimate contact before. It really would've been enough, just watching him like that, but sure enough, Mako did something that he just couldn't resist. He always had. "Haru-ch-chan, please..." His fingers curled into his scalp and pulled at his hair. "I- Please, just... A-ah!"

He adored having the blubbering mess of a once shy man in front of him, and he finally pulled down the black briefs to reveal the large member beneath them. A tentative hand reached out to experimentally tug at it. Sure, Haru had had more than enough sexual encounters. From True-Soul dating websites to grimy bars, he'd laid a lot of guys and gotten laid by a lot of guys. It had started with him thinking that maybe, just maybe he could find his soulmate this way, by sleeping around and having one night stands, but that hope was shot down pretty quickly.

After it was clear that he couldn't find his lifelong partner, he instead began to do it for the excitement and lack of romantic attachment it involved. He made amends with the fact that his life would be lacking.

Deep down, there was always that... longing. That longing for the rush he felt during high school when he was naive enough to believe that maybe, just maybe if he said the right words and did the right actions he could win his childhood friend's heart and favor. He believed wholeheartedly that Mako was his Soulmate because he never felt the same around anyone. He never felt that rush of blood to his face with anyone else like he did when he spotted the happy, drooping eyes across a room.

After Sousuke and he had started dating and he'd proclaimed that he saw colors, _wowie_ , he finally gave up.

But now, here he was, mumbling something repeatedly under his breath, and Haru wanted to make him feel perfect. He wanted to make him feel more amazing than he'd made anyone feel before.

It was endearing how the hips bucked into his hands without them even having to move. He stroked the length of it to get a feel for things before moving his mouth down and flicking his tongue over the head that leaked with precum. There was something so infatuating about the way the taller's lips fell open at that. After earning another moan, Haru licked up the warm shaft as slowly as he could pace himself, making sultry eye contact with the alike half lidded eyes.

His face was past the definition of red and more glowing, and as he held that eye contact Haru brought his mouth down at last. It was a lot larger than he'd really imagined so he tried to rearrange his jaw while figuring out simultaneously what to do with his tongue. The muscle hit the back of his throat, barely missing his gag reflex. He moved back up and down, trying to gauge how fast he could go with the initial pattern of the motion.

He started using his teeth to graze against the member, moans of satisfaction sending vibrations up Mako's dick as his hands searched for somewhere to pull at other than the dark hair at his lap. He felt the warmth building up in his stomach that he could do nothing but moan louder about because nothing he'd ever done with Sousuke had felt this great.

Did he deserve this? Was it wrong, to be feeling this right with a man that wasn't his?

Did he _care_?

He decided as he released down the warm mouth, he didn't, because he'd never come this fast with such a quick blowjob.

  
The next morning, guilt was eating him alive.

As soon as his eyes opened everything from last night hit him like a truck, along with the smell of brewing coffee. He sighed, squinting against the sun coming in through the window and dragged his hands across his face. He squirmed as he thought about those lips, spreading open obscenely around him and making those dirty- "Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

"Good morning." Haru leaned against the doorway, usual blank face bright and expressive. "Sleep well?"

"Y-Yes. You?"

"Peachy." He handed over a hot mug of coffee and took up the spot next to the semi tense other. The gray eyes flitted over to Haru's legs, widening when they noticed the dark red splotches over his kneecaps. "Oh my gosh, Haru-chan! Your knees!"

"What about them?"

"Are those from last night?!"

"And if they are?"

"I-I'm sorry..." Haru examined him for awhile, to see if this was actually serious enough to apologize. Once he realized he wasn't joking he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Makoto, last night was amazing. I wouldn't change anything."

They lost eye contact and Mako looked back to the couch as he made little crests with his fingernail over his arm. "I... I'm not sure. About all this. What if we've made God mad? We're not- How can I make you happy if we aren't True Soulmates?" The shorter felt his chest constrict painfully as their eyes met. They were full of confusion and tears, and the young man wanted nothing but to wipe them away. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to hurt anyone. I-I... I don't want to hurt you."

He finally broke into the bout of crying that couldn't have been avoided no matter what he did. "I can't hurt you, Haru. I can't."

"Makoto, calm down." He scooted closer and cupped his wet face in his hands. "You wouldn't ever hurt me, I can promise you that. Do you hear me?"

He stroked his fingers through the brown hair and pressed Makoto's forehead into the crook of his neck. He felt like cursing at God and his parents and stupid Sousuke, all at once, but he decided that maybe it would just be best to not. "I _love_ you Mako, and you don't have to say it back."

"Stop, Haru, ple-"

"I love you and I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

  
Later that day, after taking a shower and getting on the dressiest shirt he had Mako walked into the kitchen, tapping his feet quickly on the floor and getting out the ingredients for the cake they were baking. "Haru, what gift should I buy?"

"Mako, calm down. It's literally just dinner. No need for a fancy gift. The cake's enough."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, positive. Lemme help you make it." He moved next to him and started mixing the dry ingredients in the bowl as Mako haphazardly tried to crack eggs on the side of the bowl after accidentally dropping one on the ground." Eggshells are alright, aren't they? Crunchy and-"

"Mako, you're _horrible_ at this."

"Am not!" He walked over and poured the eggs and vanilla extract into Haru's bowl, a splatter landing a centimeter above his collar.

"You should probably take your shirt off."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I can't say I wouldn't." Haru turned around and aligned himself to be pressed between the counter and Makoto's body before moving to unbutton his shirt. For an unbearable moment, their faces were inches apart, and the shorter wanted nothing but to capture those tempting, chapped lips in a long kiss. Quick breaths mixed together, but eventually, he opted for pressing a kiss to the flushed chest instead. "There, better."

"I'm, uh- I'm going to go check the mail!" Mako scurried out the room, face bright red as Haru went back to mixing.

When the cake was out the oven Haru carried it to his rarely used car and called for Makoto to hurry up, his hair didn't look bad at all. As he sat in the passenger, it was impossible to ignore all the scratching and tapping he did. "Heck, I'm practically an old man to them!"

"You're barely 3 years older, Mako."

"Exactly! I'm an old man and they have a happier relationship than _I_ do!"

"You don't have to tell them about what happened."

"I want to. I have to."

They drove in silence for a few more minutes and came to a stop in front of the small house at the end of a good neighborhood's block. Mako held the cake pan with white hands, his smile straining. He wanted to sink into the shadows when Haru stepped forward to press the doorbell, but just partially hid behind the raven instead.

The door was opened by a blonde, smiling from ear to ear with open arms. "Ah! You guys are here! We've been waiting for foreverrr!"

"Nagisa, we're 5 minutes early."

"Still, it seems like we waited for you guys so _long_! Come in~"

Mako shuffled in behind Haru, holding the cake in front of him like a weapon and keeping his eyes trained on the ground. "Hi, Nagisa. We- Uh, we brought cake."

His smile stretched wider. "Mako-chan! I can't believe it's you!" The small arms wrapped around him, and Haru took the cake from his hands to put it in the kitchen. Mako patted his head and smiled hesitantly, sighing as his anxiety slowly wore off. "It has, hasn't it? I've missed you."

"I have, too! Come on, say hi to Rei!"

He was dragged into the kitchen where another man stood in front of the stove, frantically fanning away smoke as Haru chided him. "No, that's not how you do it. Lemme show you."

"H-Hi, Rei."

The youngest of the room turned around, a surprised smile on his face. "Mako-san!" He'd never been big on hugs, so when the brown-haired man received a swift embrace it certainly threw him off track.

"How have you been?"

"Oh, fine. And you?"

"Good, good. Haru-san was just helping me fix dinner."

"It's already done. Get out the plates."

"Wha-!" His shocked expression shifted to a dire one. "Haru-san, you are terrifying sometimes."

Rei and Nagisa plated the food and Haru brought the dishes to the table in the living room. Mako watched from the sidelines, feeling like more of an outsider and loser by the second. When he sat next to his partner at the table he felt the desperate need to pull out a clump of his hair, but his hand was grabbed before he could. He gave an appreciative smile to Haru, who only nodded and took a bite of the noodles.

"So, how's it been for you other than work and bills?"

Nagisa groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't believe it, Mako-chan! The other day, I was at the store, and this rude woman cut in front of me in line, right? So I was like, _"Hey, why'd you do that?!"_ and she was like, _"Oh, I didn't see you there."_ I WAS LIKE, "BITCH, IM WEARING HIGH HEELS AND YOU STILL DIDN'T SEE ME?!" She was so rude, hhHHH _!"_

"Babe, she was half blind.”

"That doesn't give her an excuse! Right, guys?" Mako held back an amused snicker. "Wow, seems pretty crazy."

Rei shook his head and changed the subject. "And you? How's Sousuke?" Makoto choked on his noodles when he heard his name. He hadn't expected it to be mentioned so early on.

"We, um..." He looked to Haru for advice, but he was just nodded at to continue. He gave a thick swallow. "We aren't... together."

"What do you mean, weirdo? You sleeping on the couch or something?" Nagisa grinned mischievously before releasing the joke might've been a little more real than he'd meant. "Oh... Makoto, I'm- I'm so sorry."

"No, no, it's... fine." He twiddled with his eating utensil, trying on a small smile. "It was bound to happen, anyway. I _am_ a very stressful person."

"No, you're not! He's horrible for doing that to you! Ugh! If I could stomp over there right now and beat the shit out of his shitty ass, I fucking w-" His husband's cautionary hand on his shoulder silenced his threats. "Is there anything we can do?"

"No, no... I'm staying with Haru right now, so..." He felt his ears heat at the whispered, _"I knew it."_

"Mako-san, can you hand me the red bowl by you?" Mako picked it up and handed it to Rei, earning a strange look. "Red, not green.”

"Eh? Isn't this red??"

Now both Nagisa, Rei, and Haru exchanged weird looks. "No... that's green."

"Hm...?”

After he handed Rei the so-called green bowl, the youngest chewed on his lip before bringing out his phone case. "What color is this?"

"Uh... gray?"

"Wrong. Light Yellow."

Haru finally frowned beside him. "That looks gray to me, too, but only because I've never been able to see colors."

Nagisa held up his finger and brought out a light blue pen. "What color's _this_?"

Mako's nose scrunched up. "... Blue?"

"Yep!"

"Babe, what was the point of that?"

"Oh, there wasn't! I just wanted Tachibanana to get confused!"

Rei rolled his eyes. "Anyway, this is definitely... weird. I'll possibly get back to you on this." The dark haired man went on to talk about his politically incorrect boss at work and the subject was forgotten for the moment.

  
Three days later, Mako woke up to a ping on his phone. He glanced to make sure the noise hadn't woken up Haru, who slept next to him in the bed. He then grabbed it and opened the message, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

_**Rei:** Please read this A.S.A.P! Meet me @ Woolen park 4 pm w/ Haru!_

He clicked on the link attached, squinting as he read the title.

_Dr. Jared Singer and his Remarkable Soulmate Study_

His eyes scanned over the first few lines, which was a background and earlier life of some American scientist's. It seemed normal enough, other than the fact that it mentioned him divorcing his Soulmate at the age of 39.

_We had an okay relationship, but not like the ones we saw broadcasted all over television. After we had divorced, I looked for every possible explanation of why, but nothing made sense._

_One day, when I was over my grandparents, Gram decided she was sick of seeing me slump around and started telling me a story to lighten the mood._

_It started when she was in high school and she had met her first boyfriend that she'd known for a couple years. After a drunken fling the night of a senior party, they realized that they could now see what they thought was colors. Overjoyed, they wed as soon as they had graduated, and everything had gone well for a couple of years._

_But at year 4, she'd noticed a shift. Her husband wasn't showing as much affection as he had at 19, and he was going out later and later at night and coming back early in the morning without an explanation. Though she'd felt bad then for doing it, she decided one night to follow him. He had turned up at a bar, and she watched in horror as he talked with a woman she'd never seen before and then walked home with her. I commented with uninterest._

_It was the classic story of a cheating husband and a victimized wife. Millions of couples went through it every day, but almost every Soulmate pair got over it. I still remembered to give my Gramps a dirty look from where he was sitting in an old recliner. She continued on, though, ignoring my obvious boredom._

_The next day when she confronted him, he only shrugged and asked if she wanted to separate, which she had instantly agreed to. After the divorce, she stayed with another good friend._

_One day at her job, which was a full-time slot at a grocery store, she met a man named Jared. She hadn't thought much of it, but as she started to see him more often she started to notice things about him that she loved._

_He had begun to court her, and though it was a bit unusual to fall in love while surrounded by the smell of expired onions and cleaning solutions, she surely had. They started going on dates together. To the local diner, to the theatre, to the lake nearby their houses._

_One night, they kissed (against her better judgment.)_

_That was when she realized that the colors she had seen weren't as true as they could have been because after that kiss she saw everything more vibrantly than she thought she could. That man was my grandfather. “It was very strange. But my point is, not everything is as it seems.”_

_After that conversation, I was bewildered. I'd heard of Two-Souls. Everybody had. With the Millennial generation growing, True Soulmates were a thing of the past. Many adults just summed it up to the fact that the young adults of this age couldn't commit to one person, or that they were too wild and disrespectful to be compatible among themselves._

_I was guilty of this view as well, but I still couldn't help the curiosity that was blooming within me. Gram wasn't a “radical Millennial.” She was a pleasant old lady who was raised as a True-Soul, and who drank tea and knitted quilts._

_I began to search around the internet for any others going through the experience, and I was baffled with how many results popped up when I simply typed in the words “Why could I only see a few colors with my first (unsuccessful) Soulmate?”_

_There were accounts from people ranging the ages of 17-78, and all of them had the same recurring themes: A person thought they had found their Soulmate because they had seen their view then of “colors,” the relationship was proved to be toxic, they separated, and the person went on to find somebody else. They found that when they kissed, they could see true “colors.”_

_It didn't make any sense to me._

_That night at the lab, I stayed up late paging through my extensive collection of anatomy books and scientific proofs. Nothing popped out at me until I looked through my copy of “Primitive Soulmate Science of the 1800’s.”_

_A scientist, Charles S. Sadenburg, had been comparing through a telescope cone cell tissue from two people's retinas that had found their Soulmate, and somebody’s who had not. He realized in awe that while one of the studies red and green cone cells were responsive, the other’s were showing cell structures very similar to the subject who had died without a Soulmate._

_He found this as proof that the Two-Souls lifestyle, in some cases, could actually be profitable._

_He had tried to publish his findings, but nobody would even consider the discovery. The idea of finding a different Soulmate was highly looked down upon, and the only words anybody heard of it was through whispered conversations escaping from the tight lips of vain trophy wives at dinner parties._

_I found this unbelievable. I needed to look deeper into the situation._

_After looking through many more anatomy books and studies, I decided to put out a simple ad:_

_You or a close friend ever had a weird Soulmate experience? Email me: dr.jaredsinger@outlook.com._

_After the ad was put out, I went to our local Ace hardwood store and bought 7 paint samples. The red, green yellow and orange looked extremely similar to me, so the only reference point I had were the color labels._

_When I got home, I was thrilled to find that I already had five emails. All of them seemed to match up with Gram’s origin story, so I asked them if they wouldn’t be too averse to participating in an experimental study of why it was happening._

_4 agreed, and over the next week as I set up the study room in a rented out space more and more people came to me asking if they could join. Pretty soon, I had 224 people offering their eyes to be tested, whether they were in a happy relationship or not. After me begging a couple of friends to help me, we had everything ready by Friday, and people started showing up on Saturday._

_I had the 7 different colors set up upon 7 different canvases with numbers 1-7 on above them. I gave each group, which was consisted of three people who said that they hadn’t yet found their Soulmate, three who had but had separated with their original Soulmate, and three who were in what they thought a happy relationship, a piece of paper. I instructed them to write their stance (happy relationship, separated, and never found) and which canvas numbers looked the same or different._

_This went on for the rest of the day and into the next, then finally ended on Monday at 3:00 pm. Instead of the aforementioned number of 224, we now had 445 results to go over, and even my friends Mike and Sarah were eager to start recording the scores._

_It took us 3 weeks, in total, but the results were as profitable as I had expected them to be._

_In 93% of the test subjects that had found their relationship happy, all the canvases looked different from each other. In 95% of the people who had separated with their original Soulmate, 4 of the canvases looked very similar, and the other 3 were the only distinguished ones. And in 99% of those who hadn’t found their Soulmate, almost all of the canvases looked the same._

_I didn’t know what to do with this information, other than post it onto my website and Twitter, and then post that link to my Facebook._

_I never knew it would cause this much of an explosion. I’m getting retweets and likes like crazy, still, and don’t even get me started on the comments! Apart from this interview with you, I have one with ABC next Friday._

_I’m working on my official manuscript to put in my published study, so look out for that._

_I don’t know what I plan to do with this, but I’m hoping to get it noticed by the_ NSAA _(National Soulmate’s Association of America) soon. They need to be teaching this to schoolchildren and parents alike!_

 _Though I don't know much else, I have decided to name this new-found common occurrence “color-blindness”, due to its nature. I hope to find out more with better equipment._  
_Until then, Dr. Jared Singer signing out. **{end of article}**_

Mako almost fell out of bed.

  
After Haru had read the interview, his mouth set into a firm line. “... _What_?”

“I know! It’s crazy, right?! Do you think it’s legit?” Makoto tapped his foot on the park’s grass, chewing on his lip again. Every 3 minutes he looked around to see if Rei and Nagisa were there yet, though they had arrived there 30 minutes earlier than the decided on time.

“Where’d Rei even find this? Is this one of those fake news stories?”

“I don’t know, Haru-chan, but what if… What if it’s _real_?”

Their gazes connected again, a hidden message in both: If it was “legit”, then it could mean something entirely new for the course of their emerging relationship.

“Haru-san, Mako-san!” Rei and Nagisa were speed walking to them, and the other two stood up from their spot. Without any greetings, Haru shoved the article in his face. “Rei! Where did you find this?!”

“I-I was on CNN! The symptoms that he mentioned, they look exactly the same to Mako-san's, and we don't want to get your hopes up, but-”

“This can't be real…” Mako covered his face with his hands as Rei pulled up all the credentials of the interview and showed them to Haru.

“Sousuke wasn't Mako’s Soulmate! Haru, don't you understand?!” It was the first time he'd heard Nagisa not use a chan, and the first time he'd seen him so excited. The sparkle in his eyes was evident even in the shade of the park trees. “You two could be Soulmates!”

“Nagisa, don't be- Don't be unrealistic.” But he was already looking to the taller, fear evident in his stare. “How do we even know he can't see the colors he's supposed to? How do we make sure?”

“Ah, okay! So there is this test… Wait, let me find it!... Here! It's like his original but just digitalized. Mako-san, which ones look different and which look the same?”

“Um…” Mako squinted his eyes, looking at the blobs of gray that barely varied on the white to black scale. The only colors he could really differentiate were purple and light blue, so he said their numbers. “The last two look different, and the other 5 just look… well, they look how I thought they were supposed to look!”

“And what colors are what?”

“I- I don't know. I’ve only really known how it looks because of… Oh my god, I've only known how they look through their labels.”

“ _SEE_?!”

“So? What do we do?”

“We need to go rub it in Sousuke’s face! Show the dumbass he isn't all that important after a-”

“No!” The dark-haired man cut his husband off. “We should test the theory out.”

“W-Wha-! Wait, isn't this a little fast!” Mako looked from Rei to Haru and Nagisa then back, but nobody seemed as disturbed about it as he did. The raven only let little inklings of his nervousness slip out into the open, but his stare was constant. “Right now?”

“Wait, H-Haru-chan-!”

“Yes, preferably.”

“Well, Mako?”

“I’m- Isn't this a little too fast?!” Haru shrugged, stepping closer to him and grabbing his hand. “How could we know if we can't possibly try?”

“Haru… What is it doesn't work?”

“Then it won't. It won't change a thing. I’ll still love you, and if you want then you can go out looking for your True Soulmate.”

“Are you sure?” Mako hesitantly returned the squeeze over his palm. “Are you positive you won't hate me?”

Haru gave an uncommon smile. “I'll still love your hair, because it's always cute in the morning, and I'll still love your voice, because it's the most beautiful sound in my life, and I’ll still love your personality, because you're the most caring person I've ever met in my life, and I’ll still love your eyes even if I can't see their full color, and I’ll still love your lips, even if they crush my childish hopes. I've loved you since Sophomore year, and I love you now, and I always will.”

By now Makoto was crying into his other hand, wet sobs breaking into shocked laughs. “Sophomore year?! You never told me!”

“Well, what was the point?”

“Just- _Oh my god_ , just kiss me already!” And when their lips connected they kept their eyes squeezed closed, because neither one of them would let the disappointment that could possibly happen taint that amazing moment. Years of ignored longing were packed into 35 seconds of bliss, and when Haru’s eyes opened again he was almost scared to ask if Mako saw the new vibrant colors as he did, too.

“I- Rei, your glasses are… red?”

“Yes! Haru-san, yes! They are.” Nagisa looked in nervous expectancy to Makoto, who stared around with tears in his eyes as if he was having the shock of his life. “And you, Mako-chan?”

“I can't believe this! Nobody told me green was so bright! And the sky, is that blue? What have I been missing out on my whole life?!”

Haru laughed and his worry dissipated into the air. All the new color was giving him a headache, but he didn't mind right then because he'd never felt happier in his life. “Wow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fast plot im sor


End file.
